


Sa'yong-sa'yo

by inkwellAnomaly



Category: Heneral Luna (2015)
Genre: 90's Music, Alternate Universe - High School, Best Friends, Love Confessions, M/M, Songfic, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 18:39:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12870654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkwellAnomaly/pseuds/inkwellAnomaly
Summary: For Polé, Miong is the sun - bright, warm, vibrant. But high school's over now, and what's Polé going to do about the sunset?





	Sa'yong-sa'yo

**SA’YONG-SA’YO**

**Mabinaldo Mixtape Vol. 1**

5 songs, 22 min

by bougainvilleaz

  


**Now Playing:** [**Track 1**](https://open.spotify.com/track/5T9cG5K84xMtSpZroVMXAr)

_Itim sa bughaw at puti sa dilaw_

_Lampara sa daan ay pinapalitan_

_Ng araw na sumisikat_

_Mukha mo ay nakikita_

_Sa ulap at mga lila_

_Marilag_

 

_Marilag_

 

The sun was setting over the mountains.

 

Polé, glancing out of the window of his modest home, could make out the figure of Mt. Makiling, which he agreed resembled a woman. Surrounding him was a forest of palm trees, and beyond that, wide open fields. It was getting dark, and the cold air was beginning to set in.

 

It was funny, he thought, how the sunset and sunrise were practically the same, and yet so different. Sunsets always filled him with a sense of loss - another day of his mortal life had just passed, and the sun in all of its shining warmth had once again left him. It had been with him, been his light, and now it was time for it to leave. How ironically appropriate, that one named after the god of the sun would have such a fixation on sunsets.

 

For Polé, Miong’s smile was the sun. Specifically, the sunrise.

 

The way it crinkled his face, how lopsided it was against the rest of his square jaw and blockish haircut; the way how it made his dimples just a little bit deeper. It was genuine, it was kind, and it was captivating. Miong flashed his signature smile every morning, greeting Polé before setting down his things and taking a seat (he sat in the fourth row while Polé sat in front). Miong’s smile was bliss, and at the same time it was torture.

 

Reining his thoughts, Polé came back to the topic of his reflection: the sunset. He supposed that by imagining it go backwards, one could imagine the sunrise, although only a mere facsimile.

 

Once again, Polé’s thoughts fell to Miong. His smile, his smile - how could he forget his smile? The smile he probably wouldn’t see for at least four years?

 

“Mag-aaral ako sa Manila. Sabi ni Papa. Pero gusto ko naman din e. ‘Kaw ba, sa’n mo plano? O trabaho ka na?”

“Wala naman kasi akong mahahanap na trabaho nang ganito, kaya aral muna ulit ako. University of Batangas siguro. Wala naman kaming perang pang-dorm.”

“E pa’no kung mag-roommates tayo?!”

“Miong, maabala ka lang sa’kin. Aalagaan mo pa ako. Dito na lang talaga ako habang-buhay ko. Tutal, mamimiss ko masyado yung Tanauan.”

“Ah.”

 

They were graduating the following day. Polé’s knew that, deep down, his life would change. Meeting Miong had changed his life, and Miong leaving would change it again.

 

Polé thought back to the first time he had seen Miong’s smile. It was first year, and Miong had gone up to him at recess. It was the second week of school.

 

“Pwede magpatulong sa Math?”

 

What started out as a supposed one-time tutoring agreement in exchange for a small amount of money eventually became a full-fledged partnership: Polé would ride home with Miong to his mansion (yes, mansion) and go up to his room to help him with Algebra every Tuesday and Thursday. Polé wasn’t particularly excellent at the subject, he just got by by working hard. That was his secret, as well as his mother’s: having pure, unequivocal grit.

 

The first time Polé went inside Miong’s room, he was dumbfounded. It had air conditioning, a bed big enough to fit two people, its own table and chair, and a bookshelf. One could glean Miong’s interests: posters of Eraserheads, Parokya ni Edgar and Moonstar88 hung on the walls, a guitar lay on his bed, cassette tapes labelled “For Hiling” were strewn across his desk.

 

Of course, Polé expected in part for the room to be so luxurious, Miong being an Aguinaldo - the Aguinaldos were the most prominent political family in the region. In fact, the school building was a “CARLOS J. AGUINALDO TYPE BUILDING”, written in in metal lettering on the building’s facade. It was a fun little tidbit Polé liked to remember: naming buildings after people was banned, so the word “type” was added to get around the rule.

 

Polé and Miong’s friendship had gone past tutoring: eventually, they became inseparable. Sure, Miong had his friends on the basketball team and Polé had his friends in the student council, but for some reason they found something in each other they couldn’t find in their respective cliques. Because of that, they always found time to eat together. You could say they were the school’s odd couple - the jock and the nerd who always sat together at lunch. Polé had enough classmates teasing him that he was a homosexual, and Miong’s apparent clinginess to him only exacerbated the rumors. They called him Miong’s girlfriend, his pet - nothing could be further from the truth.

 

Although, deep down, he did wonder what it would be like. For Miong to love him.

 

 **Now Playing:** [ **Track 2** ](https://open.spotify.com/track/19qvp23a0iXjzS72nqOi8u)

_Kailan kaya mahahalata_

_Ang pighati sa ilalim ng iyong mga tawa_

 

_Kahit mawala ka pa_

_Hinding-hindi mawawala_

_Ang damdamin ko'y sa'yong-sa'yo_

 

“Nakaka-pressure lang kasi minsan,” Miong said, voice breaking in the middle of his dimly-lit bedroom. He wiped tears from his eyes and avoided Polé’s gaze. He was always so open with his emotions.

 

It was during one of their sleepovers that Miong, tired from a long day of basketball and video games, decided to get all mushy. It was three in the morning, and he was being brutally honest.

 

“I mean, gets ko naman na mahal ako nina Papa’t Mama. Pero feeling ko minsan, baka ‘di nila ako mahal kung ‘di ako ganito kagaling.”

 

Miong wasn’t just an achiever academically: he was also one of the star players of the basketball team, as well as student council president. The boy had ambition, Polé noted, and that drew him all the more. Miong was tireless in achieving his goals, and it was something that he respected. His drive to succeed almost matched Polé’s - Polé remembered often seeing him stay late at school to practice with the team, his arms dripping with sweat.

 

“Ba’t mo ba pinupush sarili mo?” Polé had asked. He didn’t want to seem critical, but he was genuinely curious.

“Wala. Feel ko naman kaya ko e.”

“Kung kaya mo, ba’t ka umiiyak?”

Miong simply sniffled. He had such puppy dog eyes when he cried.

Polé leaned in for a hug, and Miong accepted it wholeheartedly. Polé rubbed his back reassuringly - how could someone who seemed so strong also have such vulnerability? Polé shrugged aside what was going to be another night-long introspection and simply embraced his best friend, whose heaving breaths were finally beginning to grow more and more stable.

 

Miong drew back and put his arm on Polé’s shoulder.

“Love talaga kita, dude. Salamat.”

 

 **Now Playing:** [**Track 3**](https://open.spotify.com/track/1EJQZaE23L5ZK52nPycC16)

_Ang araw ay bumangon na_

_Mula sa pagtulog niya sa likod ng mga bundok_

_Umaga na, mga mata_

_Hindi pa nakakaranas ng kahit isang kurap_

 

Polé tossed and turned in his bed. How could he let Miong how he felt? He could feel the seconds ticking away, the deadline of their graduation inching ever closer. In less than twenty-four hours, he was going to lose Miong.

 

And he had to say something before he did.

 

 **Now Playing:** [ **Track 4** ](https://open.spotify.com/track/2Vh99AkSzc8hn7eWcVD7wj)

_Patak ng luha ng kandila_

_Sa sobre kong sinidlan_

_Ng liham nilathala_

_Para sa iyo_

 

Polé was a man of honesty; he’d decided that long ago. Everything he said, he’d meant - even the things that were difficult to say.

 

And he knew that, deep down, he was lying. Lying by hiding his feelings for Miong. Their friendship was on false terms, and the guilt palpably weighed down his chest, almost making it difficult to breathe.

 

Polé got up and lit the kerosene lamp, hoping his mother and multitude of siblings wouldn’t be awoken. He’d make the excuse that he was studying if they did.

 

This was more important than grades. This was _Miong_ , for Christ’s sake. Miong, who entered his life like the sun and brought it light and warmth - Miong, whose eventual absence was as certain as the sunset. Polé knew he had to do something, and he had to do it now.

 

As a member of the school debate team, Polé was skilled at articulating himself and presenting his arguments. True to his name, his nigh-prophetic insight allowed his side to often win debates. However, this skill was useless when it came to expressing how he felt.

 

He began scrawling his words onto the paper, ideas bouncing and hitting each other like the balls on a pool table at the beginning of a game. As his point became clearer and clearer, Polé realized: he had gone through two pages, back to back, and yet he still wasn’t clear.

 

Frustration. That was the word.

 

Frustration that, despite how many words and sentences he employed, none of them could capture the gravity of how he felt. None of them could accurately say how much he felt about Miong. He didn’t consider himself a poet, despite following the great works of Balagtas: no, poetry required the skill of baring one’s soul and opening one’s heart through words. Polé had no such skill.

 

Was he doing this for Miong, or was he doing this for himself? The realization dawned on Polé just as the sun’s first rays began peeking over the plains in the distance. He was being selfish - he just wanted to absolve himself of his guilt. He wanted to stop lying and just come out with the truth.

 

But if he was doing this for himself, why did it hurt so much? What could he gain? He knew Miong could never love him the way he did, so why did he try? Polé liked to believe he was a smart worker, not just a hard one, and he chastised himself for putting hope in a lost cause. Miong would never be his, and he would ways ache.

 

The best he could do was minimize that ache. He needed to cut Miong out of his life before he left him forever.

 

 **Now Playing:** [ **Track 5** ](https://open.spotify.com/track/7CXBhqBSbHNgecVX6aguUp)

_Paalam na nga ba?_

_Kung hindi na tayo magkikita_

_Nawa ay mangyaring_

_Hilahin tayo ng kamay ng Diyos_

_Sa isang pagkikita_

_Sa isang pangitain_

 

The sky was gray and cloudless over the open-air schoolyard.

 

Polé wheeled himself away from the crowd, wanting to take a break before searching for his mother. His polo was scribbled all over with dedications from his classmates - mostly wishes of good luck and comments of admiration of his intelligence. He felt they were impersonal, but that didn’t really matter. He got along well with his classmates, but they weren’t particularly close to him. Polé wasn’t one to have many friends, anyway.

 

Meanwhile, from afar he could see that Miong’s polo was packed to the brim with dedications; he was Mr. Congeniality, after all. Teammates, girls who had a crush on him, student council constituents, even people he didn’t know - all of them had swamped him to write on his polo.

 

Various medals also hung from Polé’s neck - he was the batch valedictorian, as well as the recipient of various academic awards, and so naturally he was decorated with medals. He almost felt like a war-hardened general.

 

Miong said he’d wanted to be a soldier when he was younger. Fight some big war, lead troops, become a hero - all for the red and blue, white and yellow of the flag. Polé commended him for his past nationalism, and agreed he also wanted to someday serve the country, perhaps as a lawyer or a senator. Providing for his family and supporting his mother took precedence, of course.

 

Polé reined in his thoughts once again. He had been avoiding Miong all day, and now was finally the time to say goodbye. Goodbye forever, he supposed.

 

“Okay ka lang?” Miong came over and asked, brow knit with worry.

“Oo naman.”

“...”

“May kailangan akong sabihin.”

“Ano yun?” Miong asked, still worried.

Polé took a deep breath. “Goodbye lang siguro. Have a nice life.”

“‘Yun lang? ‘Yun lang yung gusto mong sabihin?”

“Miong, ‘wag mo na ‘tong pahabain. Aalis ka na, at kailangan ko nang mag-move on sa buhay.”

“Ha?! Mag-best friend tayo! Ba’t ka ba nagiging ganito? Kung kailan na ako paalis saka mo ako aawayin!” Miong replied, on the verge of tears.

Polé steeled himself. He had to be strong. Cutting Miong off would be more painful for him than it would be for Miong.

“Miong. Friends tayo. Pero pupunta ka ng Maynila. So kailangan na akong mag-move on.”

“Polé, don’t do this,” Miong’s eyes were already welling up with tears. “Please, pwede mo bang i-explain? Ba’t ang cold mo sa akin ngayon? Balewala lang ba yung pinagsamahan natin?”

“Di naman kita pwedeng kontrolin. May sarili kang buhay, and parte lang ako ng buhay na ‘yun. So okey lang talaga ako na aalis ka. Goodbye lang talaga.”

“Hindi. You’re lying. Feel ko may 'di ka sinasabi sa’kin.”

 

Polé turned away. Tears began welling up in his own eyes - he cursed himself for breaking down now.

 

“Miong, minahal kita. Since second year - na-realize ko lang habang hinaharana mo si Hiling si bahay niya. Na-realize ko na, napaka-importante mo sa buhay ko. Pero aaalis ka na, at ayokong masaktan.” Polé paused, taking a deep breath. “Ayoko kitang saktan. Pero kailangan na kitang tanggalin sa buhay ko if it means na hindi ako maaapektuhan ng pag-alis mo. Kung meron ka pang gustong sabihin sa’kin, sabihin mo na ngayon. Kung hindi, okey lang. Uwi na’ko.”

Miong just stood there, dumbfounded. Polé began turning away again, when he suddenly found himself in Miong’s embrace. Miong was crying, breathing heavy, unsteady breaths. Polé, for the most part, fought to keep himself stable - if he started sobbing, he wouldn’t be able to control himself anymore. The threshold could not be crossed.

 

Miong drew back, and put his face close to Polé’s.

 

“Mahal kita. Polé, alam mo naman ‘yun.”

“Pero?”

“Pero di ako pwedeng mag-stay dito. May ambisyon ako, at di ko sila pwedeng tuparin dito sa Tanauan. Sorry talaga - sorry na ganito pala yung nararamdaman mo tas wala akong ginagawa. Sorry na sinaktan kita.”

Polé nodded. For once in his life, he didn’t have some eloquent response.

“So paano na? Paano na tayo?”

“‘Saka na natin i-figure-out ‘yan. May paraan lahat ng mga ‘yan. Ngayon, kumain na muna tayo.”

 

Polé wiped his tears and wheeled himself alongside Miong, who made his way to his parents. He realized, maybe he was limiting his choices too much: a third choice was always possible. And whatever that third choice was, he was going to take it. He didn’t know what it was, but he was sure of it. He and Miong would always be friends, no matter what fate threw at them.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed that!! Munimuni is one of my favorite bands, and so I wanted to write a fic that incorporated all of their songs! I'm also intrigued by the setting of the province during the 90's - I pine for the past the same way some of us pine for those close to us. I put a lot of heart into this fic, so I genuinely hope it was a positive experience for you! Thank you!!


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